Frodo's Bath Time
by AngieT
Summary: Frodo does not want to have a bath. Another silly little fluffy Primula story.


Title:Frodo Takes a Bath

Author:AngieT

Thanks to Maura for the Beta.

POINTLESS FLUFF WARNING

Sitting naked on the draining board, Frodo eyed the kitchen sink with a look of trepidation in his huge blue eyes. He had been set on a soft towel to keep his bare bottom from the wooden draining surface. From his perch he could see over the windowsill and into the basket of sweet peas that was fixed under the sill.

Primula supported her son with one hand to his back as she dipped her elbow into the water. Cool water from the pump had been warmed with hot from the kettle and a froth of soap bubbles stirred up.

"Ready?"

Frodo shook his head, hung on to his bent-up knees, and stuck his thumb firmly between his pouting lips.

"For mummy?"

He shook his head.

"For a bit of shortbread?"

Frodo considered. And then shook his head.

Primula sighed. It had to be said that she was not the naturally mothering type. As a young hobbit lass she had much preferred climbing trees and playing in the fields to dolls and dressing up games. Whilst her peers had been giving dolly tea parties she had been rambling in the woods or paddling in the rivers.

Pregnancy had been easy, and so had loving the resulting little bundle of blue eyes and dark curls. Now she had her very own living hobbit lad doll and she was sometimes not quite too sure what do to with him. There were no shortage of female relations of offer advice – and of this she was heartily sick. Towards Frodo she felt a fierce protective love. He was hers, her very own, and she almost could not bear to see him in anyone else's arms.

Falteringly they learnt together, feeding, teething, changing, naps, and bedtimes, but bath time was becoming a bit of a struggle. In his first two years she had managed nicely with an old pie dish that was the perfect size for Frodo's baths. Slight Frodo might be but he was a tall baby and recently he had started to look ridiculous squashed into the pie dish while she had tried to bath him. There was nothing for it – she was going to have to progress onto the kitchen sink – and Frodo did not much like it.

She knew from experience that just picking Frodo up and putting him in the water would result in screams, kicks and bruises. Frodo did not go easily where he did not want to be.

Primula had an idea. She turned her back and pretending to busy herself folding dishcloths, but really keeping one eye on her son she moved to one side. Frodo sat quietly for a moment, not sure what was happening. He looked out of the window for a little longer, and then back at the sink of bubbles before him. The bubbles caught the light from the window and each held a tiny rainbow. He leant over for a closer look and stuck one foot into the water to steady himself. A bubble burst with a little pop.

Leaning further over Frodo picked up a mass of bubbles onto the tip of one of his tiny fingers. They felt soft and light. He brought the bubbles up to his mouth, pulled out his thumb, and blew the bubbles out of the window.

He smiled and clapped his hands as the bubbles flew over the sill and out into the sunny morning.

He put both feet into the water and splashed a little, then pulled out one foot and examined the bubble-covered and now slick foot hair upon it. He traced a pattern in the wet hair.

Primula held her breath, and folded washcloths.

Frodo reached out and grabbed hold of the pump handle. He was getting very good at hauling himself to his feet. He pulled himself up, took a step forwards, and sat down up to his tummy in the sink of bubbles. He then looked up at his mother with a cheeky grin that clearly said, "You are not fooling anyone!" and reached out his hands for her.

"Bubbles!" he cooed.

Primula felt tears well up in her eyes and she turned to the sink and leant over Frodo.

"That's my Elf Prince."

Frodo picked up a double handful of bubbles and put them onto his own head.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?"

He nodded. "Bubbles!"

Primula dipped a worn soft flannel into the water and rubbed gently over the pale pink flesh. Little hands smacked the water. "Wash hair!"

"Yes, my lordling," Primula scooped up water in a cracked teacup. "Close your eyes."

Frodo screwed his eyes shut and put his hands over them for good measure as his mother carefully tipped water over his soft curls. Frodo splashed with his feet.

Hair washed Primula started washing the rest of her wriggling hobbit lad. She steadied him with one hand whilst she ran the cloth over him.

"Time to count all your toes," she teased. This was an old game which they had played so often that Frodo could count up to ten – albeit by rote and some of the words were indistinguishable to all but his mother.

At last the tot was washed, the bubbles mostly burst, and a good quantity of water splashed around the kitchen. Primula lifted Frodo out onto a fresh cream-colored towel on the kitchen table. He curled up, pulling his knees to his chin and grabbing his feet laughing up at his mother.

"Oh my lad, my little Frodo love," she whispered over him. "I never thought I could love anything as much as I do you."

end


End file.
